Air Force One Page #19
- R
- Year:
- 1997
- 124 min
- 967 Views
MARSHALL (V.0.)
It's June.
Gunfire in the background.
SWITCHBOARD:
Sir? Are you there? Sir? Sir?
Her face says N. The Switchboard operator pulls out a call
sheet and finds a number.
On the phone, lying open on a heap of clothing.
Bazylev points the machine gun at Marshall's head.
BAZ YLEV:
Hands away from your weapon.
Marshall doesn't move, his np5 hanging at his waist... his
hand inches from it.
BAZYLEV:
Come now. You don't want to die.
Marshall... with no options... slowly moves his hands away
from the gun.
BAZYLEV:
On your knees...
PHONE (O.S.)
Hello. Is anyone there?
Bazylev motions Marshall to get on his knees. Marshall
complies.
BAZYUV:
What's that in your shirt? Open it.
Marshall pulls his shirt aside revealing his Kevlar vest.
BAZYLEV:
Take it off. Now.
INT. WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM - DAY
Chandler on the phone. An aide waves, trying to get her
attention.
V.P. CHANDLER
My intention is not to escalate the
situation, but it's a contigency
that must be considered. Hang on...
(to Aide)
What?
AIDE:
The switchboard says that someone
called in claiming to be the
President, then she heard gunfire.
Caller's gone, but the line's still active.
DEAN:
Could be some crank watching CNN.
AIDE:
No sir. Trace confirms the call is
Coming from a White House staff
cellular account.
V.P. CHANDLER
Put it through down here.
(into phone)
Hang on, Toni.
The call comes in on speaker phone, distorted muffled voices
and the whine of an aircraft in the background.
V.P. CHANDLER
What's going on in the background?
Can we hear what's going on?
Dean picks up a phone.
DEAN:
Max, get me Willis.
INT. NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY, LISTENING POST - DAY
WILLIS, a grossly overweight man in his late forties
surrounded by a monolith of high-tech, starts working his
console.
WILLIS:
Tracking... Intercepting call... Got
it. Ten seconds, Mr. Dean.
Audio waveforms appear over Willis' console. He implements
digital filtering routines, cleaning up the sounds.
INT. WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM - DAY
The group listens intently. The call modulates, distorts,
dissolves... then clarifies.
BAZYLEV (V.0.)
Hands... hands behind your head, Mr.
President.
V.P. CHANDLER
It's him. He is alive.
BAZYLEV:
I'm going to take your weapon now,
and then I'm going to take you
Upstairs to join the others.
Understand?
DEAN:
Christ, they have him.
BAZYLEV:
And if you make any sudden moves, I
will not hesitate to shoot.
GENERAL NORTHWOOD
Maybe they don't have him yet.
Northwood stares up at the tactical board. Air Force One...
surrounded by the F-l5s.
GENERAL NORTHWOOD
And maybe we aren't so helpless.
General Northwood picks up a secure phone and dials.
GENERAL NORTPNOOD
General Greely, Air Force One has
automatic countermeasures, right?
GENERAL GREELY:
Everything we own is in that plane.
GENERAL NORTINOOD
So a single missile launched from a
distance should be a mere distraction.
GENERAL GREELY:
Theoretically.
GENERAL NORTHWOOD
(into phone)
Ramutein Tower Control, please.
GENERAL GREELY:
(getting it)
But the effect could be jarring.
GENERAL NORTHWOOD
Exactly. Ramstein? General
Northwood... Patch me through to
your fighters. Madame Vice
President... with your permission?
V.P. CHANDLER
Do it.
INT. AFT STORAGE COMPARTMENT -
Marshall on his knees, hands behind his head. Bazylev, his
automatic pressed against Marshall's forehead, disarms
Marshall before stepping away. He slings Marshall's MP5 over
his own neck. Studies Marshall a beat.
BAZ YLEV:
So you're the President. Somehow, I
thought you'd be smaller.
Marshall stares straight ahead tn silent defiance. Bazylev
kicks him in the gut. Marshall doubles over, wheezing.
BAZYLEV:
Not so powerful now, eh? No aides to
advise you, no secret service to
protect you, no armies to command.
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"Air Force One" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 24 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/air_force_one_349>.
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